


Elementary Studies in Ships That Pass In The Night

by Palgrave (goldenrod)



Category: Community, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (1963), Sarah Jane Adventures
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Humor, One Night Stands, Timey-Wimey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-02
Updated: 2012-07-02
Packaged: 2017-11-09 00:59:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/449502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenrod/pseuds/Palgrave
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sarah Jane Smith and Pierce Hawthorne only met three times, each time under circumstances far too confusing to relate. For one, they were in no way in order.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Elementary Studies in Ships That Pass In The Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lsw700](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=lsw700).



> Another short submission for the community-tv Summer School Fic Battle, based on another awesome prompt, this time from **lsw700**. The prompt was just that Sarah Jane Smith meets Pierce Hawthorne. So I did Pierce-ship fic. Why? Because I'm evil, and I want to make you all think of Pierce getting it on, that's why (although fear not, those of you now reeling in horror -- think young Pierce, not current Pierce).
> 
> Warning; two consenting adults get it on here. Not graphic by any means, but nevertheless. Also, to reiterate; one of those consenting adults is Pierce Hawthorne.
> 
> As always, feedback, comments and kudos welcome and gratefully received. Enjoy!

The second/first time they meet is in a bar in San Francisco in the late seventies or early eighties (Sarah’s quite lost track by this point), when she's waiting to meet a contact about some underground weapons shipments that are more foreign than anyone else on Earth currently suspects. And she just happens to look up through the noise and the crowd and sees him, and things suddenly make a lot more sense than they once did, and she's reminded of the Doctor so much it _hurts_.

He’s younger of course, and quite good-looking too, albeit in an insufferably chauvinistic sense. And she must have drunk slightly more than she thought, or the loneliness and bitterness have just become too much, because frankly, she’s better than that and him both.

But then, she thinks of a toothy grin and a warm pair of hearts and the bravest and most wonderful man she ever knew, and really, no one is good enough these days. And still, one of them might as well come away from what Sarah now realizes to be their rather tangled encounters with a happy memory. So she gets up from her seat, walks over to his table, and slides into the seat opposite him.

“Mr. Hawthorne,” she smiles invitingly.

Pierce Hawthorne raises an eyebrow. “Have we met, Miss...?”

“Under circumstances far too confusing to relate, Mr. Hawthorne.” Her smile takes on more of a seductive edge. “But I’m sure you’re not interested in any of that.”

Afterwards, she has to admit that he is quite skilled in bed, and in his way not entirely lacking in charm. Personality aside, there’s worse people to spend an evening of carnal pleasure with, and she confesses a stab of pity for him when he idly mentions his father in the way he does, but it’s not long before she’s sliding out of bed and picking up her clothes from the floor. He seems surprised; evidently he’s used to being the one who leaves first.

“Will I see you again?” he asks, his eyes locked on to her naked rear end.

The question brings back more memories, wonderful and painful, and she turns and smiles at him, but there’s an edge of bitterness there that makes him sit up and take notice for the first time. “Under circumstances far too confusing to relate, Pierce,” she replies, and then she’s dressed and gone.

 

*

 

The third/second time is in London, in 2006, and Sarah’s investigating a possible Atraxith infilitration with her brave children (well, not strictly hers per say, but you’ll forgive her maternal pride anyway) when she happens to notice him bewilderedly plucking at an ATM, looking closer to how he did the first time they met. And once again, the memories come flooding back, but maybe it's because she's changed so much and he hasn't changed at all (at least, from what she remembers), but they don't hurt so much any more.

He is, she is pleased to note, aging far less gracefully than she is.

The world isn’t in imminent danger of ending at that point, so she decides takes a few moments to walk up to him.

“Mr. Hawthorne,” she says.

Pierce squints at her, confused. “Yes? Have we met?"

“Under circumstances far too confusing to relate, Mr. Hawthorne.”

He thinks for a moment, makes a connection, and then he sees the teenagers she just briefly parted company with, makes a mental calculation, and his eyes widen with panic.

“I, uh, yes,” he splutters, “well, uh, I’m sure you’ll understand that, uh neither myself nor Hawthorne Industries in any way acknowledge any claims of, say, paternity...”

“Oh no, Mr. Hawthorne, nothing like that,” she assures him pleasantly. “I just wanted to tell you that you’re overall a misogynistic, blinkered, lecherous and bigoted old dinosaur."

He blinks, not quite sure whether he's being complimented or not.

But,” she continues, “you provided some small comfort to me at at time when it was much needed. So thank you.”

She kisses him on the cheek and begins to walk away. He looks even more confused.

“Is this a come-on?” he calls out.

She smiles back at him. “Only under circumstances far too confusing to relate, Mr. Hawthorne.”

She’s well aware that the children are gossiping furiously behind her back about this, but she just smiles benignly and says nothing. A lady must have her secrets, after all.

 

*

 

The first/third time they meet is in Greendale in 2011, and he’s a lonely old man trying to get the study group who reluctantly keep him around to notice him, and she’s a pretty young woman in a pair of dated 1970s denim dungarees poking in confusion at a computer terminal in the library. And when he sees her, he immediately recognizes the mysterious British woman who seduced him in a bar in San Francisco back in the early eighties, and who he crossed paths with only a couple of years ago.

Lesser men might consider this fate. Lesser men might wonder how she seemed to know so much about him, or how she looks even younger than the first time they met despite the years.

Pierce Hawthorne is not a lesser man. And so, all he thinks about is that thing she did with her tongue. So he ignores Jeff Winger’s jibes and gets up from his seat in the study room and approaches her confidently.

She looks up, and sees him approach, and smiles, wide and innocent, with none of the bitterness of their first meeting or the wisdom of their second. “Oh, hello!” she says brightly. “Perhaps you can help me. It’s this machine. I’m... not sure how it works, frankly.”

“Oh, I can help, Miss Smith,” he says in his warmest, most seductive purr. The one he reserves for women who have that special something. (It’s not just a nice ass. It's a nice ass and something else.)

She blinks, confused. “How do you know my name? Have we met?”

“Under circumstances far too confusing to relate, Miss Smith,” he answers. Nice line. He can’t remember where he got it, so he’s just assuming it’s his. “But don’t worry, I can solve your feminine problems with that machine.”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “‘Feminine’? Excuse me?”

“It’s quite alright. Being in my presence must be overwhelming. But it’s okay. Yes, I will lick your nipples the way you like.”

“I _beg_ your pardon?!”

Pierce smiles, invitingly.

 

*

 

The study group watch through the study room window as the brunette in the retro-seventies gear starts laying into Pierce.

“Well,” Jeff comments, “that went about as well as could be expected.”

“Who is she?” Troy asks, confused.

“Maybe she reminds him of an old girlfriend,” Annie suggests optimistically. She’s been reading _Twilight_ again. Everyone groans.

“Excuse me,” a man’s voice says behind them, hugely.

Everyone turns to see, at the other door, a man who even by the generous standards of ‘people who attend Greendale’ looks strange. He's dressed like he's stolen everything he owns from a thrift store, except he's wearing it all completely unironically. Buggy eyes, a huge grin, an explosion of curls jammed underneath a huge wide-brimmed fedora in a vain attempt to control them and a scarf twice as long as him looped around his neck.

“I’m looking for a woman,” he booms. “Well, a woman and an interdimensional warlord from Dimension X, but the woman will do for now. Sarah. Short, British, likely to be regarding any post-1985 technology with a certain degree of confusion.”

Jeff nods at the window, through which Pierce can be seen flinching under an increasingly irate barrage of fists and shouting. “You’ll have to wait. She’s busy beating up our friend.”

If anything, the man's grin gets bigger. “Yes, that sounds like her.” He casually begins to stroll through the study room towards them.

“So who is she?” Troy insists.

Jeff sighs. “I don’t _know_ , Troy. All Pierce said was that she looked like some woman he hooked up with in the 1980s.”

It takes a moment for Britta to notice the man suddenly stop in the middle of the room at that. He frowns, peers through the window, and then a look of dawning realization suddenly crosses his face, and he suddenly looks so impossibly sad that even the study group are suddenly quieted.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” the man rumbles darkly. “It’s just...” he sighs. “Nothing lasts. Nothing ever lasts. No matter how much we want it to. Oh, Sarah, I suppose you'll be going home sooner than we both thought...”

There’s a pause. The room suddenly feels unbearably cold and lonely, even with everyone in it.

Then, it’s as if someone has flipped a light-switch.

“Still,” he grins. “No sense worrying about tomorrow. Enjoy the now, that’s what I say.”

And then, with a dramatic sweep of his scarf, he goes to extract his friend from Pierce, or vice versa.


End file.
